


McBride-to-Be

by Weavillain



Category: The Loud House (Cartoon)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Marriage Proposal, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-05
Updated: 2018-12-05
Packaged: 2019-09-11 23:09:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16861804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Weavillain/pseuds/Weavillain
Summary: Nothing said the "perfect marriage proposal" quite like a basketball gym, at least in Clyde's eyes. (Clyde x Lynn)





	McBride-to-Be

An array of blooming stars scattered across the sky on the eve of a warm March afternoon, dazzling bursts of brilliance across anywhere their light just so happened to shine down on. With the aid of the full Moon, the inky canvas of the night had further difficulty in shrouding them from a wandering eye.

Yet, for everyone that occupied the Royal Woods rec center's indoor basketball gym, their gazes were drawn to an object that was certainly duller than a celestial body but might as well have been a dazzling comet sailing through the air—a basketball hurled from almost half-court.

Besides the winding countdown that slowly but surely ticked towards "0:00" on the electronic scoreboard, everyone—from the players to the spectators—were rendered into mannequins in an elaborate, sports-themed mall display as the thick, tense atmosphere kept them in suspended animation.

And then, as if the sound of the ball clanging against the backboard before swirling around the rim and slithering through the net with a _*thwip*_ as sharp as a whip's crack was the trigger used by a hypnotist to break their client out of a trance, the entire room came alive before the buzzer of the final quarter sounded off.

The shouting and cheering from the crowd, as almost each patron stood to their feet, was loud enough to drown out the victorious hollering and excited squealing from the team clad in red jumpsuits, but their energy couldn't compete with that of the most enthusiastic sports commentator in town.

" _ **THEY'VE DONE IT, FOLKS! THEY...HAVE...DONE IT! THE TIE-BREAKING SHOT HEARD 'ROUND THE COURT HAS LED THE TURKEY JERKIES TO THEIR SIXTH CHAMPIONSHIP! YOU CAN JUST TASTE THE ELECTRICITY IN THE AIR, CAN'T YOU, PEP?!"**_

And, as usual, his partner would respond with just as much liveliness.

"The only thing I'm tasting is my acid reflux acting up again."

Everyone could count on Pep to be the outlier on festive occasions such as this, but besides the Brie Throwers—who were collectively keeping up appearances of good sportsmanship by not turning into the "Fit Throwers" from tasting the defeat from their rivals for the fourth year in a row—there wouldn't be any distinguishable faces that wouldn't find a championship game between two of Royal Woods' best junior girl basketball teams to not be worth a standing ovation at the very least.

Then again, that was probably because that any conventional assumption of personal matters post-game would either revolve around deciding what to eat before driving home or...yeah, that was about it.

But for Clyde McBride, the weight of the biggest, life-changing decision in his existence weighed him down to his seat as it nestled comfortably in front pocket of his brown jacket—his mind was just as heavy, laced with the thoughts of what he knew he had to do soon.

Instead of clapping, his hands were wrapped in a gesture of prayer. Instead of being misted with tears of joy, his dry eyes scanned the winner's side of the court and the group hug between the Turkey Jerkies.

His smile certainly fit in, though, even if the precise reasons behind his happiness couldn't be shared with faceless strangers—the conclusion of the game wasn't nearly as important as the people (more specifically, _person_ ) he came to support.

As a young man in his mid-twenties, Clyde had more than his fair share of watching sporting events from the bleachers. Though he never found himself fit (in more ways than one) to don a jersey and take center stage in a war of attrition and strategy against an opposing team, he had gained a new appreciation in what it meant to live vicariously in the success of others.

Or, in his case, his _significant_ other.

It had just been a showcase of camaraderie strictly between the Turkey Jerkies for a short time, but it didn't take long for their coach run up to them from the sidelines to join in and administer high-fives, hugs, and noogies on each of the girls.

And from there, what was once a small swarm of moths lazily fluttering around a flickering light bulb in Clyde's gut—a sensation that was nothing more than residual excitement from the final shot—morphed into a colony of eagle-sized butterflies as his heart was the pounding beat of a dribbling basketball that bounced against the court.

Even from afar, the sight of Lynn Loud Jr. was just as breathtaking as it was up close.

It took him back to his days of freshman year of college, shortly after they started going out. He'd do his best to attend every game she was a part of, not just to be there and witness her dominating in her element, but to live for her love-laced arrows shot straight to his heart—after making a game-changing basket or sending a softball out of the park, she'd blow a seemingly aimless kiss out to her adoring fans. But she confirmed, on an afternoon that they spent on studying for midterms in his dorm room under his cozy, blue blanket, that all of them were for him and him alone.

It flustered him to the point of sheepishly looking away from her and reddening while she mirthfully laughed and played with his hair, but he couldn't say that it didn't make sense. For better or worse, Lynn lived her life through the lens of a tunnel-visioned mindset. Whatever she had in her sights—another lacrosse trophy to her name or his confirmation that their rock-climbing date was as bracing as she had promised—wouldn't be let up until she had it in her clutches.

Before he knew it, _his_ clutch was molded around the lump in his jacket after his hand had unwittingly been drawn to it. The unconscious action was inspired from what he saw in front of him. It was a part of what he wanted for his future with Lynn—looking on as she doted over children that they could call their own.

And all he had to do was cast his affections—bought at a price of over three thousand dollars and tucked in a black velvet box—towards her while he knelt before her on one knee.

Months of planning and pep talks from his dads and Lincoln had helped him decide that this basketball gym was the perfect place to propose. A garnish, theatrical setting like a nightly stroll in the park—complete with a flock of doves flying over their heads and a violin accompaniment from fancy-dressed musicians in tuxedos playing in the background—would've reeked of genericity.

Or, to quote one of Lynn's phrases with her brand of playful snark: " _Weak!_ "

Clyde chuckled to himself, feeling a tingly sense of sensitivity glowing on his shoulder from imagining the light punch to the shoulder he would've gotten for trying to appeal to his girlfriend with such a schmaltzy cliché. He couldn't imagine her turning him down, even after that, but he refused to mar the potential of such a precious moment by doing something to inspire a roll of the eyes and a smirk—gestures that said, "Yeah, I guess I'll marry you, you big goof", instead of amazement, joy, and an understanding that spoke to her heart.

Now, all that was left to do was wait for everyone else to eventually clear out and leave room for him to pop the question with a superstar who shined brighter than anything the sky could ever hope to hold in its grasp.

* * *

As it turned out, Bert the janitor wasn't just an efficient custodian, but quite the gentleman, too. Waiting for Lynn in an empty basketball gym wasn't going to happen without Clyde letting him know why it was important for him to stick around, despite the spectators being required to clear out shortly after the game to give the cleaning staff their space to work.

Bert had told him, with a smile and a hardy slap on Clyde's back, "Good luck, chap," and left him.

In the end, Clyde opted to stand in the middle of the court instead of sitting on one of the empty bleachers. It may have been somewhat of a foolish fixation to latch onto, but the idea of setting the mood with Lynn seeing him on his feet—with tenderness dashed across his face—made his tummy tingle pleasantly. Chances were, she'd instinctively know that what he wanted was important, all while having an adorable look of confusion on her face as she drew close to him.

It took him back to all those times when he was a boy, when his dads would call for him. Whether they looked angry or happy with him, he knew that they meant business when they were standing and looking at him intently instead of lazily reclining on the couch, as if their business wasn't anything that they needed to move from their comfort zone to deal with.

Clyde even went as far as to make sure he was directly within the center circle, just to add that extra touch of symbolism—as far as he was concerned, Lynn was already the _center_ piece of his life.

Just then, he heard the gym entrance door creak open, and the _pitter-patter_ of his heart drummed up in his chest again. Fortunately, the smile that he managed to slip across his face came naturally to him, instead of a crooked, nervous beam that would've come off as awkward—after all, happiness never came to him as easy as seeing his beloved, even moreso when she was smiling herself.

It only took Lynn a few seconds to scan the room in search for him before her bright, brown eyes locked onto him. It gratified him to see her grin grow wider as soon as she saw him, a telltale sign that his love for her was at least on on par with hers for him.

Either that, or it was the love for the cheeky joke that he saw coming the minute her eyes glinted mischievously as they narrowed into slits while her smile grew into a smirk.

"Hey, buddy," Lynn said, edging towards him while she crossed her arms across her chest. "You're a little late for mascot tryouts. Try coming back tomorrow."

Clyde couldn't contain his chuckle, even as he rolled his eyes. "Very funny, Coach Lynn."

Her smirk never faltered as she replied, "I know, dummy. That's why I said it."

She must've been in a pretty good mood today, Clyde observed, not that there was any reason to guess why that was—usually, she'd be a little rougher with the playful insults and call him "dweeb", "nerd", "geek", or any substitute that could be found in the tamer pages of a typical high school bully's verbal handbook.

Compared to that, "dummy" was about as venomous as a baby garter snake.

Fortunately, he was already prepared for a retort by the time she approached him. He felt his body cinched in a soft hug as she wrapped her arms around his waist, and the cozy warmth from the familiar but pleasant contact inspired him to do the same.

"Oh yeah?" Clyde asked, an eyebrow arched up. "If I'm such a dummy, then how come my amazing, beautiful girlfriend, my precious schnookums, _and_ my darling angel from above, just so happens to be the coach of the championship-winning Turkey Jerkies? Sounds like I'm a pretty smart guy to have such a catch."

He nearly burst out laughing when Lynn ducked her head down, her bangs effectively covering her eyes. Her evasive action couldn't prevent Clyde from noticing how her freckled cheeks glowed the cutest shade of pink ever and the flattered, tiny grin that twitched under her nose.

It was a predictable response. Lynn wasn't one to shy away from a compliment about well she did something, but throw in a mushy edge to it and she'd blush and stutter as much as...well, as much as he used to around Lori.

It didn't long for him to dig up that modest side of her, and he couldn't imagine ever being bored of exploiting it.

"Geez, Clyde, lay it on thick, why don't you?" Lynn said, shifting the side of her head to rest against his chest.

It was a tempting offer—even though she said it with bashful irreverence—but raining down words of flattery wasn't his aim. At least, not in _this_ context. Instead, he leaned down and pressed his lips against the top of her head, eliciting a content mewl to slip out of her.

"Actually, I wanna talk about why I texted you to come down here in the first place," Clyde replied. "It's really important."

She looked up at him a little more hastily than he thought she would, with an expression baring her curiosity and relief. Clyde figured that she wasn't just interested in his puzzling invitation but was thankful that the shift in conversation gave her an escape from being further put on the spot.

"I hope it's about how you're gonna treat me to dinner at that new steakhouse a few blocks away," she said, using just a hint of teasing inflection in her voice. "I've been hankering for a ribeye since this morning."

Clyde could tell that she wasn't being completely serious, but couldn't help but let out a snort through his nose while he shook his head in mock reprimand.

Lynn knew better than to take it seriously, and played along by jutting out her bottom lip and widening her eyes.

"What? Even your 'precious schnookums' gotta eat, y'know."

It was times like these when Clyde wondered why Lynn still acted skittish and shy whenever he lathered her with sappy remarks, especially those that revolved around how downright cute she could be when she deliberately went the extra mile—he refused to believe that she could be blind to the effect these little acts of hers could have on him.

In any case, Lynn had done more than enough to earn whatever her stomach desired for the evening, especially since Clyde knew that she'd have reasons to celebrate matters that weren't just about a championship trophy.

Speaking of which...

"Well, I wasn't planning to," Clyde said, trying to get back to where his initial segue was going in the first place, "but I guess you _do_ deserve something for how you've been helping the girls all season."

Without any saccharine coating on the compliment, Lynn was able to react without getting flustered.

"Eh, you shouldn't give me _all_ the credit," she admitted. "Tasha's a natural-born leader. When it came to whipping everyone else into shape, she honestly did most of the work for me. Not to too my own horn, but she reminds me of the way I was when I was her age."

She broke away from the hug, only to rub the back of her head and grin sheepishly, as if she had been caught near a broken window with a baseball bat in her other hand.

"Except she's _way_ less of a ball hog than I used to be," she finished, a few giggles slipping through at the end.

Whether she realized it or not, Lynn had pushed her account about her short-lived but amicable tenure with the Turkey Jerkies in the center of Clyde's focus.

Right where it belonged, in his opinion.

"Actually, that's kinda what I want to talk about," Clyde said, his demeanor shifting into seriousness.

Lynn caught on, but only to how his present emotions demanded her not to treat the atmosphere he was trying to push with frivolity.

"About..." Lynn pointed to herself, her brow faintly furrowed. "...me?"

"Sorta. You see, I remember you telling me about this place a long time ago, about how you changed for the better because of your time with the Turkey Jerkies. Something about learning what it meant to be a team player, right?"

The puzzlement on her face gave way to nostalgia as fondness for the days of old took its place.

"Yeah. I wanted to do all the work for my team because all I cared about was winning. In the back of my mind, I always knew that there wasn't an 'i' in 'team', but it didn't really hit me until I got a taste of my own medicine." She let out a short, happy sigh, like the only way she could press on was to let out a fraction of her wistful spirit. "That's when I promised my teammates that I was gonna let them play. Even though we didn't win the championship, at least I made some good friends."

There was a crucial detail that Clyde noticed that she left out, willingly or otherwise, and he wasn't going to let it go by the wayside.

"And when you made that promise," Clyde replied, "you did after you took a knee."

And just like that, Lynn's bewilderment came back to the forefront, evident in the way she cocked her head to the side.

"Yeah. What about it?"

Clyde reached out and took her left hand in his right one, his thumb skimming across her fingers. It made him giddy to think about how he wouldn't be able to do that without skimming his digits across a diamond ring.

"I want to do something similar," he said.

As he knelt on one knee, he took in her expectant look with a smile. He was ready for dawning realization to hit her as soon as he touched the floor, but he had no problem with waiting. Besides, he couldn't complain with the majestic angle he had of her. Thanks to the overhanging, fluorescent lights, she was swathed in a bright aura that was strong enough to highlight her features in its luminescence—from her chestnut-colored locks to the smoothness in her befuddled frown.

"Years ago, in this very room, you promised that you were gonna be a better team player." His left hand descended towards the jewelry box-bearing pocket and slipped inside it. "Today, I want to show you that I've been thinking about forming a team with you."

His fingers, now shaky from the excitement that gnawed through his nerves, clamped around the box. He pulled it out and watched with lung-burning, bated breath as he watched Lynn's eyes burst open as he held the box in the palm of his hand.

"A team that I want to last for the rest of my life."

He had to hold himself back from leaping up in joy when Lynn let out a gasp and slipped her hand away from his soft grasp to hold it over her mouth as her body shook and swayed like she was standing on a wobbly jello floor.

This was it! Besides listening to her accepting his proposal, which he was certain was going to come in just a few moments, watching her overwhelmed was the most satisfying part of this once-in-a-lifetime experience. The feeling was mutual, even though Clyde was doing his best to retain his composure and give his commencing words the dignity they deserved.

"Now, more than ever, I want to spend every day with the woman who's been taking me to greater heights since I was a boy. Whether you were teaching me how to get better at softball way back when I was eleven, or when you kept pushing me to go after my dream job of a pharmacist—even when I felt that the work was too hard and I wanted to quit more than once—you've never given up on me."

A clear sheen of tears brimmed in Lynn's eyes, and Clyde could feel moisture beginning to drip from his own eyes.

"You give me strength when I'm at my weakest, and you encourage me to see the light at the end of every dark tunnel. And I've come to know that you..." He couldn't fight back the way his throat started to swell any longer, deciding to forge on with his voice choked-up. "You've been at my side because you truly care about me. That's the best feeling in the entire world, and nothing comes close to giving me as much joy as that."

Despite her streaming tears, Lynn had been able to keep silent for the entire speech. That changed when Clyde gingerly craned the lid of the box off. Her muffled, happy sobs landed sweetly in his ears, and even though he couldn't quite see the ring, he knew enough about it know that it couldn't sparkle with half the luster as Lynn's tears did.

"Lynn Loud Jr., will you marry me?"

She nodded emphatically as her hand instantly dropped down from her mouth, revealing the large grin that spoke volumes to him when words failed to come out. She allowed him to take her left hand and slide the ring where he knew it belonged. Clyde intended to get on his feet and embrace with another hug, but Lynn's impatience only allowed him to live out half of what he wanted—he was swept off his feet with a tackling hug, and the brunt force of his back hitting the floor melted away as the comforting closeness of Lynn's frame pressed into him while her face nuzzled into the side of his neck.

Without thinking, he encircled his arms around her back as he kissed her tear-streaked cheek. He could feel cold trails of wetness dribbling over his skin where Lynn's face was buried, but he wouldn't wipe it away.

Nothing about this moment deserved to be wiped away.

"Clyde...i-it's beautiful," Lynn murmured softly, her lips grazing him and pricking him with pleasuring tingles.

Clyde shook his head. "No, Lynn, _y_ _ou_ are. And I promise that I'll be the best teammate you could ask for. You have my word."

As he laid there, basking in what he knew was only the beginning of the best years of his life, he couldn't help but recall a quote of Robert C. Peale, a man he had learned about while he pursued his doctorate:

" _The best and most efficient pharmacy is within your own system."_

Had it not been for Lynn, those words would've been his first experience with learning not to underestimate what someone could bring out of themselves through their own potential. As much as he wanted to believe that he was fulfilling Lynn's life to the same degree as she had done for him, there was a still a blip of insecurity in his psyche—those little whispers wouldn't let him go a day without thinking that he had some serious catching up to do.

But now, for the first time ever, he was fine with that. He had a whole lifetime with Lynn to put his soul at ease, and he'd cherish every step of the way. After all, even if his self-evaluation wasn't correct, it still meant that he was going to give even more of his all into loving his number one prospect.

And that was a fate he'd never grow weary of.


End file.
